Madrid

After a two and a half hour train ride in comparative luxury to my travels so far, Hugo and I arrived at Atocha train station in central Madrid. Unbeknownst to me, this station was the site of the 2004 Madrid terrorist attacks. We were also in a pleasant mood as our commute from Sevilla to Madrid was, compared to the Faro debacle, close to perfection. We arrived at Mad Hostel, located right in the heart of central Madrid.

As per my new regime upon arriving in a new city, Hugo and I put a few hours aside to aimlessy wander the many streets of the Spanish capital. As I quickly realised, I had no preconceptions of Madrid and I soaked up the sights and sounds as the city flaunted its beauty. I soon discovered that Madrid is also reknowned for its nightlife, and so it was time for Hugo and I to head off to the supermercado to stock up on, you guessed it, cheap vino tinto.

We were able to rendevous with John Citizen (Connor, who at the time was identity-less, for want of a better word) and head off to an Irish pub to watch Australia play Serbia in the world cup. It was an interesting experience as Germany vs Ghana clearly had preference. As a result, of the pub's 10 TV's, 2 played the Australia game. We had to deal with the commentary of the German game as well as a pub full of Germans. Our little Australian trio was able to make more noise when goals were scored in our game than the German contingent of at least 40. I was impressed. This also made for a nail-biting scenario due to goal difference, as both games were played out in front of us and we were rooting for Germany just as much as Australia.

After the game and the temporary disappointment, it was time for a few games of cards and some wine. Hugo and I headed out to Commo, a local club that charged 5 euro for an open bar of beer and Sangria from 10.30 till 1. This made for a long night and one that, for the most part, I don't really remember. Hugo spent the majority of the night ordering a Spanish girl to teach him Spanish, only to respond to her phrases with "Lo siento, no intiendo" (meaning "I'm sorry, I don't understand.") One step forward, two steps back eh Hugo?

Another surprising thing about Madrid for me was the heat. Our first two days were high 30s reaching 40 degrees at its peak. I could hardly believe it, as compared to the humid heat of SE Asia, the dry heat here makes it seem at least 5 degrees cooler. It was also a great day for laundry, as we discovered.

This morning Hugo and I decide to surrender to the tourist image and take part in a free walking tour. It was well worth the effort, as I indulged again in my interest in history and learnt copious amounts about the tumultuous history of Spain. We were taken to the nooks and crannies of the city, saw the oldest restaurant in the world, tried some of the cookies the nuns from Madrid are famous for and also saw some amazing buildings. The Bank of Spain is "apparently" (I'm not so sure) the most expensive building in the world. We were told that it is made from the most expensive marble in the world, all cut in Italy and shipped to Spain to complete the jigsaw. Expensive or not, it was a truly magnificent sight.

After the walking tour, Hugo and I headed to the train station to book our next train to Oporto in Northern Portugal. We had some unexpected entertainment on the metro. Three seperate groups of buskers armed with amps, guitars and harmonicas bombarded the carriage with music for the whole 20 minute trip. I could hardly contain my amusement, while nearly everyone else on board seemed completely indifferent. The music wasn't too bad either. Due to our initial experience with Eurail in Sevilla, Hugo and I were optimistic. 90 minutes later, and a lot of hating on people (subtlely of course), we finally got to the ticket booth. Our deadline was 4pm, the start of the Brazil-Portugal game. Our broken Spanish seemed to work well, and we had our ticket within minutes. Now to perfect the art of running-through-a-train-station-without-hitting-anyone-but-still-making-the-metro-back-to-the-Irish-pub-in-time. I suceeded and was about to leap through the doors of the train only to turn around and see Hugo almost bowl over an old lady. Luckily he didn't, we only missed 10 minutes, and no one scored anyway so what was the rush?

I also noticed while at the train station that along with the air traffic controller strikes in France, there are also a whole lot of strikes on the trains in Spain leading to cancellations. Fingers crossed that our train tomorrow won't be! I can hardly describe how keen I am to get on a surfboard again. Travelling is obviously a great distraction, but it has gotten to the point of craving. I calculated that this is by far the longest I have gone without surfing since I began the addiction at least 7 years ago. I won't be surprised if I make noises similar to an excited 5 year old girl when I run down the beach for my first surf. Hugo seems to be equally excited.

This again means that we part ways with John Citizen, sorry, Connor. He flies to Marrakesh on Wednesday to meet up with the fellas for a trip to the Sahara. I concede that I am jealous of the boys, and will definately make a trip to Morocco when I have more time but for now the surf is calling...

I feel like the standard of my blogs is slipping, that they are becoming more vague. Maybe it just seems that way because I'm so tired or because I am comparing them to Dave's and Haz's. Either way I know that at least mum is enjoying them. (Thanks mum) This last part of the blog has been added after I discovered that the auto-save feature did kick in after the computer I was on shut down. I was crushed. I forgive you technology. I am writing this section after 3 hours sleep as we got home at 6, woke up at 9 in time to beat check out and get our 10 euro deposit back. Now Hugo and I have to wait till 10pm to get on our train to head to Oporto. (Bit of zig-zagging between Portugal and Spain I know) Don' t think I can muster any more words, so thanks for reading. Gracias.